


To Go Forever Higher

by xxFuyukaina_Bakaxx (FindingSchmomo)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/xxFuyukaina_Bakaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America has always been a dreamer, one that reaches for the stars and beyond. England is unconvinced as his former ward tries to prove that he truly can make the impossible possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Go Forever Higher

**Author's Note:**

> You could take this as USUK if you squint. But it's really just them being brotherly.

_"One day Artie I'm going to reach the skies. No wait!_

_I'll reach the stars! Then I'll touch the moon!"_

* * *

"Artie! Artie come look!" America shouted happily as he jumped up excitedly. His dirty blond hair bounced with him, along with his rebellious stray strand. His blue eyes shined in excitement and his mouth was set in a permanent smile. The Englishman sighed as he went over to the jumping American wondering what 'new and fascinating wonder' he wanted to show him.

Frankly, England just wanted to go home. He had failed to have his usual tea this morning since America refused to keep any in his home. That, along with being dragged across the pond to see the obnoxious American were the probable causes for the gentleman's sour mood. He rubbed his temples in aggravation as he waited for his former ward to unveil some new contraption.

"What is it now, Alfred?" He asked not trying to hide his annoyance in the least. His green eyes looked up to the American's bright sky orbs with a steady gaze.

"You're going to be amazed!" America grinned, grabbing at the shorter man's wrist in order to drag him up to the clearing. England looked to see people gathered around the area and two men standing by an odd looking contraption. He furrowed his brows as he stared at it. It looked familiar…

"It's a plane, Arthur!" America explained happily, pointing at the contraption. It had two flat long wings on each end of it. A canvas was pulled tautly on top and on the underside of them. He stared at it before looking up at the excited American. "He's going to fly it, Artie! The first piloted flight! It's going to be amazing!" Alfred continued, his eyes shining. England raised a thick eyebrow, unconvinced before turning back to the 'plane'. He highly doubted it would fly. It looked very unstable and the mere thought of flying was too fanciful. Men were meant to stay on the ground, not fly in the open sky. Only dreamers had their heads in the clouds and sadly, America was such a dreamer.

He watched as the two men continued their preparations. "Those are the Wright brothers." Alfred explained helpfully as England nodded his head absently at the newfound information. "That one there is Wilbur and the one getting ready to pilot the plane is Orville." The American continued, undeterred.

"Interesting." Arthur murmured though he thought the exact opposite. His mind kept shifting toward a nice cup of warm Earl Grey. Damn it, he needed his tea! He frowned hoping this thing would be over with already so he could go scour the countryside for some bloody tea. The man was only going to crash anyway; there was no way he would actually fly even though America seemed convince otherwise.

His inner musings were interrupted as he felt a strong hand placed on his shoulder. He looked up to see the cerulean eyes directed to the plane. "It's about to take off." America notified squeezing the shoulder in anticipation. England squirmed away from the hold to no avail and sighed before changing his gaze toward the flying machine. The man, Orville, if he remembered correctly was already lying in the machine. It looked highly unsafe to the shorter nation, the thing was most likely going to crash and the man would be harmed. Did all of America's citizens lack common sense just like their nation?

He watched as the machine began down the path and America held his shoulder tightly in anticipation. England watched in newfound fascination as the contraption lifted into the sky and stayed. It did not crash, it did not fall, and instead, it glided forward. His breath hitched at the sight as his green eyes followed the plane. The man was actually flying. Sure he wasn't that far off the ground but the simple fact that  _a man was flying_  astounded him. It must have been only a couple of seconds after when the plane landed safely but it felt like hours. And he  _landed,_ he did not  _crash_. The thought amazed him as he forced his eyes away and instead looked at America.

Blue eyes turned to him filled to the brim with ambition and joy. A self satisfied smirk curled on his face as he gazed into the wide emerald eyes. "I told you I would." He stated happily as he finally let go of his shoulder. England paused a moment, rubbing his shoulder as he realized his former ward was replying to something he had said a long, long time ago.

* * *

"Alfred, what are you doing?" England asked as he saw the mess the young colony had made. Crumpled papers littered the floor to the point where he couldn't tell if the floor even existed underneath them. The colony was hunched over the table, a feather quill pen in hand. Two empty ink sets sat on the table along with a filled one. The boy didn't answer him, more focused on his drawing or whatever he was doing with the paper and ink. England scowled at the colony, quickly coming forward and snatching the quill from the boy's hand. America made a surprised noise and looked up at his guardian with a frown.

"America. You must speak when you are spoken too. Do you not see the horrid mess you have made? Clean it up this instance. And what are you doing wasting paper and ink?" England scolded angrily, green eyes narrowed at the small boy.

Blue eyes met him with a hint of defiance. "I wasn't wasting them!" America  said indignantly.

"Then what were you doing, Alfred?" England asked, trying to soothe his anger.

The little colony's eyes sparkled at the question and he grinned excitedly. "I had a dream last night that I was flying through the clouds using some machine of sorts! It was amazing! So I'm trying to design a flying machine. I'm not sure what to call it yet though…" He thought pensively. He picked up the paper in front of him and showed it to his mentor. "See. It has wings like a bird and a tail of sorts." He pointed as he spoke excitedly.

England sighed; idle hands truly were the work of the devil. "America, stop this nonsense. You know it is impossible for man to fly. Stop dreaming and instead focus on something useful, like your studies." He scolded crumpling up the crude drawing. Alfred tried to protest but a cold glare silenced him. "Now clean this mess up or you'll be sent to bed with no dinner." He ordered.

America glared at the floor before muttering a quick "Yes, Arthur." The older nation left the room and the colony got on all fours in order to pick up all the papers he had crumpled. He got lazy and began throwing them into the waste bin instead of walking toward it. He blinked as he noticed that some of the pieces of paper glided easier into the air depending how they were folded or crumpled. He grinned at the new idea forming in his mind.

* * *

"Artie! Artie it's on!" America shouted excitedly as he pointed at the television.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" England called as he made his way from the kitchen. He felt slightly annoyed since the tea wasn't boiling yet. He wanted to have it ready before it happened but apparently the space shuttle wouldn't wait for him. He left the tea kettle on the stove before making his way back into the American's living room.

Alfred was sitting on the edge of his couch, his eyes glued to the screen as some scientist spoke of the mission. The American was grinning from ear to ear in anticipation. He glanced over at England patting the seat beside him. Arthur sighed, figuring he would have to wait for his precious tea and sat down beside the American. "It'll happen any minute now." Alfred stated excitedly, eyes drawing back toward the screen. England nodded absent mindedly.

"I can't wait to see that damn commie bastards face when he sees that I beat him!" America shouted, pumping a fist into the air before settling down. The scene had changed on the television. England found himself sitting up also as he watched the screen carefully. He focused as the Apollo 11 landed on the moon. He found himself holding his breath as the man clad in an astronaut suit carefully climbed down before touching the surface. The tea kettle whistled from the kitchen and he ignored it as he strained to hear what the man was saying. Silently and with a hurry, Alfred got up and turned up the volume on the television.

"One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Blared loudly through the set and America repeated the words silently to himself in order to keep them stored in his memory. Neil Armstrong then began to walk about the moon. Arthur watched enraptured. There was a  _man walking on the moon._  Never in his life did he believe that to be possible. But the proof was before him and he let out the breath he was holding.

America's eyes were shining in triumph and his smile only kept growing. England blinked at him as he got off the couch and ran over to his phone. He dialed a number carefully and waited impatiently as it rang.

The other line seemed to pick up when Alfred let out in a loud shout, "IN YOUR DAMN FACE, COMMIE!" before slamming the phone back down. England raised an eyebrow and tried to cover his smile as America let out a 'whoop' of triumph. He then turned to the still seated Englishman with bright blue eyes. "I told you I would." He stated with a smirk. England scowled playfully turning away as he tried to hide how proud he was of his former ward.

* * *

"Alfred, what are you doing outside so late?" England said coming toward the young colony. He shivered in the chill night air as a soft breeze passed through him. The candle in his right hand illuminated him in a soft glow along with the child who was now looking over at him. It seemed he was trying to hide something behind his back.

"Nothing." The colony answered quickly, his eyes shifting in the obvious lie.

"Alfred." England scolded in his warning tone and watched as Alfred's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You'll only make fun of me." He murmured with a sad frown. England sighed feeling slightly guilty for blowing up at the small child earlier this morning.

"I promise I won't." He answered, kneeling down to the boy's height.

Blue eyes shined bright at the promise and he grinned. He revealed the object behind his back. It was a piece of paper folded with care to have wings and a pointed tip. England looked at it with a raised brow. "It's a paper glider." Alfred explained enthusiastically, "See, you have to fold it carefully in this shape and when you throw it, it glides! I've been experimenting all day and this seems to be the best design so far." He grinned excitedly.

"Is it now?" England said, slightly amused.

"Watch!" America ordered turning away and throwing the folded paper carefully. It glided smoothly for a few seconds until a gust of wind wrenched it away from them. Alfred's eyes widened and he quickly tried to run after it in order to grab it. It eluded him and was soon out of sight. America slumped to the ground in defeat, his eyes downcast and teary. All his work; gone with the wind. He looked up as a hand was placed on his shoulder. England smiled down at him squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"Come inside, Alfred. I'll make you some warm hot chocolate." He said softly, holding out his hand for the young boy. America took it with a sigh and stood up. Hand in hand the pair padded back toward their home silently. Alfred, though, could never stay silent for long.

"One day, Artie, I'm going to reach the skies. No wait! I'll reach the stars! Then I'll touch the moon!"

"Alfred, those are all merely fanciful dreams. They're impossible."

"Don't worry! I'll just make the impossible possible!"

"Of course you will, America."


End file.
